Firefly Mk2: Prelude
by BDM
Summary: First in a new series of short stories. Alan Tyler's a mutant with a rescue mission in mind... but just how far will he get with a clapped-out old Firefly-class transport ship?
1. Honour Amongst Thieves

**Author's Note:** This series contains enormous spoilers for CII's story Halo: Infestation. However, owing to various commitments she may be unable to finish it anytime soon, so she has granted me permission to start putting this sequel series up here before it's done. Just thought you ought to know in case you're holding out for the ending and don't want it spoiled for you.

Now, with that out of the way, on with the show!

0

**FIREFLY Mk2: PRELUDE**

**Honour Amongst Thieves**

Lofwyr had much to be thankful for from his existence. Ever since the late 21st century he had been in charge of Saeder-Krupp, one of the premier companies in the field of industrial construction. Over the almost-five centuries that had followed, he had bought out or bankrupted almost all of his competitors. He enjoyed the feeling of being a captain of industry; it certainly felt much more satisfying to him to be involved in the workings of the business world and earn such power than sitting on a literal pile of gold. It had been a long, often exhausting process, but he was now where he wanted to be, even if the ban on Technomancy these days meant that he spent most of his days stuck in his human form. There were plenty of times he had hated it, not least because he had almost been killed a couple of times because of it, but spending so much time as a human had given him a greater empathy for the human race which he did not possess before.

Perhaps if he had not gained such compassion, he likely would not have been so eager to pick up the many contracts that the war between Earth and the Covenant had brought over twenty years ago. Though the technological standards had once again taken an enormous step backwards from the Technomancy-filled days of yore, he had adjusted quickly and had constructed no end of military vehicles, bases, drop ships, star ships and even entire space stations. Of course, it had meant an uneasy alliance with his long-time rival, Malcho, who owned Omak-Argon Industries, which supplied fuel for the ships. Though it had exhausted both beyond human endurance (he was certainly thankful he was not human, in that regard) and had sometimes been more trouble than it was worth, the arrangement had largely survived the war without too many headaches. It was amazing what someone could achieve when the very future of their species was on the line.

He had certainly always been thankful that some others like him had decided to remain awake and do what they could to help the silly mortal races, in spite (or perhaps because) of the mental scarring that the war had left him with. His finest facility on Reach, an industrial marvel the likes of which the galaxy would probably never see again, had been destroyed when the planet had been glassed by the Covenant, along with many other worlds that humans had once called home. The destruction of the Space Elevator in New Mombasa had also come as a huge blow, and efforts to clear the Serengeti of the debris were still continuing even now. If it had not been for the efforts of various parties during those turbulent times, he would be quite sure that the mental stress would have reduced him to a gibbering wreck long before the Covenant had blasted everything to smithereens.

Now, at last, the war was over, and the human race was now in the process of trying to restore some order to its shattered existence. In a way, he could not help but envy the humans for their tenacity and their stubborn refusal to back down and let any other creatures destroy their home. They lived by the simple phrase 'Don't tread on me', an attitude that he could not help but admire. With the war over, he could now move on to the matters of what his company was going to do in these times. Part of him was tempted to leave it and just enjoy the peace while it lasted, though if he knew the humans right the next conflict was just around the corner.

It was two days after the memorial service held in honour of those who had lost their lives during the war, and now he was back in Essen, Germany, right at the heart of his corporate empire. He had many days of meetings and appointments to keep. Now that the war was over he knew that he could not avoid meeting the shareholders any longer. He enjoyed personally overseeing the construction of his latest creations, and he hated how these meetings kept him away from what he loved doing the most. He had grown a real taste for getting hands-on with the work.

Relaxing in his cavernous office in the main Saeder-Krupp building, he had some last-minute details to check over new suggestions for improvements to the Warthog line before he headed for home. The sun was already setting outside, the sky becoming full of shades of purple and red which bathed the office in a warm glow. It had been a long time since he had been able to savour the little things that made eternal life worthwhile. His thoughts became derailed by a loud buzzing coming from the intercom on his desk. He pushed the button and waited for the message.

"Mr. Clyro at Site Alpha on line one, sir," the voice of his secretary said quickly.

"Danke, Isabelle," Lofwyr replied. As he picked up the receiver on his phone and opened the line, he hoped that this was not something important. He had rather being looking forward to getting home and indulging in some Toto albums.

"Yes?" he said, hoping the tone of his voice made it clear that this was not a good time to be disturbed.

"Master Lofwyr," the nervous-sounding security man called Clyro answered. "We've captured an intruder in warehouse number eight."

To say that Lofwyr was not surprised would be untrue. Warehouse Eight at Site Alpha was one of the most heavily-protected, for some of his most prized possessions which he could not keep at home or in the main office building were kept there. Still, however the intruder had gotten inside, he had to wonder why the security team were bothering contacting him personally, not when they knew what usually had to be done.

"Send them to the police then," he said dismissively. "Why waste my time telling me this?"

"Actually, sir," Clyro responded, "this guy's been demanding to speak to you personally since we bagged him. He says you both have a long history, and keeps mentioning Malcho as well. I only thought it right to humour him."

"Tell me," Lofwyr said, his curiosity beginning to peak, "who is he?"

"I couldn't rightly say, sir," Clyro responded. "He's a weird-looking fella though. He looks like a lizard-man, scales and tail and everything. Come to think of it, he looks a lot like the old Commander-in-Chief-"

"Thank you, Mr. Clyro," Lofwyr rumbled, now able to take a very good guess as to the identity of the unexpected visitor. "I shall see to the matter personally. Keep him there until I arrive."

"Yes, sir," Clyro said, before hanging up.

Quietly chuckling to himself, Lofwyr departed his office and rode down to his waiting limousine. The driver tipped his hat to the well-suited, grey-haired businessman as he got inside and rode to the base. He could hardly dare to believe his good fortune that at least one little nuisance from his past was about to be dealt with once and for all. He never thought he would get another chance, not after nearly five centuries.

The limousine quickly arrived at Site Alpha, the first, but not the largest, of the factories that belonged to Saeder-Krupp. Warehouse Eight was located in a rather out-of-the-way part of the site, as only Lofwyr and a select few others were privileged enough to be able to use it. As the large doors opened and the limousine rode inside, Lofwyr saw that the lights had been switched on, putting in plain sight the many different small craft that were kept in the cavernous space. Most of these space-ships were very old and came in all kinds of shapes and sizes. They were all personal craft and small private vessels, designed largely for transporting cargo. Lofwyr was an avid collector of these old space-ships; he enjoyed taking them apart and restoring them in his spare time, bringing them back to full working order, and even improving on the designs in some cases. The warehouse was his version of a garden shed; his own private place where he could indulge in his hobbies.

The limousine stopped in front of a small group of men. Three of them were members of the security force, among them the unshaven, nervous-looking Clyro. Kneeling between them, bound by handcuffs, was what looked like a humanoid figure, only covered in grey pebbly scales and with sharp claws where the hands should have been. A long, thick tail snaked behind him, his eyes were a golden colour with cat-like slit pupils, his teeth were very sharp, and his face looked like a distorted cross between reptile and human. His hair was long and an ashy-brown colour, while he was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and blue combats. He had empty holsters and belt-pouches, while on the floor in front of him lay the haft of a monofilament whip and a large Ruger Super Warhawk revolver, weapons which had been discontinued since the middle of the 22nd century. The creature was looking at the security forces with a defiant smirk on his face.

"Here he is, sir," Clyro said, as Lofwyr stepped out of the limousine. "What do you want doing with him, sir?"

"Leave me with him," Lofwyr said, his face looking grave. "I shall deal with this matter personally. Leave the keys to his restraints as well."

"Of course, sir," Clyro said, handing his boss the small handcuff key and motioning for the others to follow. As the soldiers left Clyro could be heard saying, "Guess Lofwyr will be getting a snack before bed-time."

Lofwyr also dismissed the limousine, telling the driver to wait for him outside. When he was sure that the building was empty save for the intruder and himself, his serious expression became one of great amusement as he kneeled before the intruder.

"Good evening, Alan Tyler," he said, sounding highly amused. "Now what brings you to my little museum of curiosities?"

0

_Two days earlier..._

Just a few short hours after the memorial, Detective Tim 'Manda' Marx had arrived back in Florida. It seemed that everywhere he went these days was hot; the memorial, Florida, and half of the United States, just to name a few. He was used to living in the heat and didn't mind it, but he found that such conditions got repetitive after a while. He only wished his flight to and from the memorial had been paid for, but that apparently wasn't in the UNSC's budget. He had considered flying there in his true form, but his kind was not supposed to do that these days. Manda was not so willing to break the rules as someone like Malcho had once been. Still, his life as Tim Marx was never a dull one, though he was glad that the war was over now and he could get back to his beat.

He returned to his home in Miami and changed into more comfortable clothing. He had never understood why people seemed to have such a problem with Hawaiian shirts. After he had changed, he pulled a large metal case out from underneath his bed. Kiryuu Knight, who was now declared Missing In Action due to actions which ultimately led to humanity's victory, had left him some items in his care, which now had to be returned to their rightful owner.

Manda had been able to contact the owner of these items before departing for the memorial service, though it had not been easy by any meaning of the word. This person evidently did not wish to be found. In the end, he was able to arrange a meeting point, out in Florida's extensive swampland regions. Manda could not fathom why the meeting could not take place in a more agreeable spot, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

A few minutes later, after he had gathered what he needed and dragged a comb through his hair, he started the drive out to the Everglades. The land which the Everglades were part of had expanded over the years since the Awakening, creating a much larger area of swampland as time had gone by. As Manda drove his jeep further towards his destination, the air became more humid and the sides of the road became waterlogged. It was now late afternoon, and the sun was getting low in the sky, casting an orange light around the marshes. In such a quiet and calm place, it was hard to believe that only a few days ago the Earth had been at war with alien invaders.

A few miles into the marshlands, Manda stopped the car and climbed out. He had taken a small side-road which led deeper into the trees, eventually leading to a small wooden cabin by the water. The building was little more than a utility shed, clearly not used as a permanent residence. Manda walked round to the front of the cabin, carrying the metal case. He peered all around him, gazing into the trees and across the water to the opposite bank, looking for a sign of his contact. He eventually spotted him, leaning against a tree on the riverbank quite close to him, gazing into the water with a morose expression. Manda could only see the left side of him at first, so the sight of the clawed arm covered in grey scales was nothing new to him. There was silence for a moment, until Manda decided to break it.

"So this is your new act, is it?" he asked, in a slightly snarky tone. "The Wild Man of the Marsh?"

His contact turned to face him, peering at him with golden cat-like eyes. His long tail swept behind him as he walked towards Manda, running a claw through his brown hair. Now that he could see his contact clearly, Manda was alarmed at just how much he had changed since the last time they had spoke nearly 500 years ago. It certainly would not be possible to refer to him as human anymore; that much seemed certain.

"I..." Manda stammered, unsure of which words would sound appropriate at this time. "Well, that is, I didn't know-"

"We can talk about my full-body make-over later," the contact replied in a slight Yorkshire accent, waving his claw dismissively. "You said you had some stuff for me?"

"Not so fast, Alan," Manda said firmly, holding a hand up. "We need to talk, first and foremost. Firstly, have you had any 'attacks' since you woke up?"

"No," Alan said flatly. "Kiryuu assured me that shouldn't happen anymore. Hopefully I won't need any spells or anything like that from now on."

"I see," Manda said. He placed the case on the dusty ground and folded his arms. "Speaking of Kiryuu-"

Alan's eyes narrowed, and he turned away from Manda. It was clear that this was a topic he had not wished to discuss.

"No point trying to ignore me, Alan," Manda continued, frowning and raising his voice slightly. "The memorial to all those who died in the war, including Kiryuu, was held today. Of all the beings on this planet, you should have been there!" His irritation was now becoming very apparent.

"Kiryuu made sure the UNSC doesn't know I exist," Alan muttered. "I'd rather keep it that way."

"Is that the only reason?" Manda demanded, his eyes narrowed. "I know you had reason not to like Kiryuu, but you can never say that he treated you unfairly, not when you think about all that he did for you!"

"Don't start..." Alan muttered.

"Have you already forgotten?" Manda half-shouted. "Kiryuu didn't have to pull you into any of his affairs! You did that on your own, by poking your nose – or rather your snout – where it doesn't belong! You went along with his plans, he helped you in more ways than you can imagine, he prepared you in the only way he knew you would accept, and if it wasn't for him you would very likely be dead long before now! Through all that, you did not show him one sign of gratitude! Now you couldn't even be bothered to go and honour his deeds. Frankly, you've insulted his memory, you ungrateful little whelp!"

"Are you quite finished?" Alan suddenly shouted, spinning round to face Manda again. His voice was mingled with a loud bestial roar, but Manda showed no signs of fear or of backing down. He knew how to deal with upstarts like Alan if it came to blows. It seemed Alan wasn't interested in starting a fight, however, and if Manda's eyes were not deceiving him he was actually trembling. He stood tense for a moment, then let out a deep sigh, his disfigured face now a mask of regret.

"Do you think I don't know that?" he said quietly. "I've had a lot of time to think lately, and I know now that I've been a fucking idiot. I've been risking people's necks for years; not just Kiryuu, but all of 'em. The Shinodas, Miki... Everyone I've ever actually cared about... Some of them, I now realise, I sent out to die. It took me until Chicago, and the things I saw there, to make me realise this."

"Well, glad to see that some sense has been knocked into you," Manda replied in a haughty tone. "But what are you going to do about it? Do you plan to just sit around in the marshes and mope about it?"

"No," Alan replied, with a determined expression forming on his face. "You should know me better than that, Manda. I have a plan. I know what I've got to do."

Quite by accident, Manda peered into Alan's mind, and saw what this plan was. His cynicism soon gave away to a look of shock, hardly daring to believe what the mutant had in mind.

"You can't be serious..." he muttered. "You're actually thinking of going out there?" he asked incredulously, pointing up at the sunset-coloured sky. Alan followed his gaze, and nodded.

"It's the least I can do for him," Alan said determinedly. "After everything that's happened between us, I know I'd never consider myself debt-free if I didn't bring him home."

"We don't even know if he's alive!" Manda protested. "I heard things at the memorial service. Everyone believes him to be dead! You can't honestly tell me you have some gut feeling that he's alive! That's a stretch, even for you!"

"I don't know if he's alive," Alan snapped. "If he really is dead, then his body still doesn't deserve to be out on some alien planet, or worse floating in space somewhere. He should be brought home and buried decently. If it turns out he's alive, that's just a bonus."

Manda sighed. Alan's proposal sounded completely insane to his ears, and yet he did not dare to say so. He knew from experience that Alan was too stubborn to abandon an idea once it entered his head. The chances of finding Kiryuu, alive or dead, were at least a million to one. It seemed that everyone on Earth except Alan had accepted this.

"Besides," Alan continued, looking up at the sky with an expression of longing, "there's nothing left for me on this old Earth. Now that I've had a glimpse of what's out there, I want to see the rest."

"What about Godzilla?" Manda asked. "If you've been paying attention, you'll know that he's been released recently from Antarctica."

"He's not a child or a trained monkey," Alan stated flatly. "He doesn't need me around to protect him. I'm not even sure he knows I exist."

"Well," Manda said, sighing and stooping to pick up the metal case. "I would say what my opinion is of this plan of yours, but I know you'd just ignore me."

"You know me too well," Alan replied, with a gleam in his eye.

"You'd better take these with you," Manda said, handing the case to Alan. The mutant took it, looking curious, and opened the case to have a look. Inside was a large silver revolver, a monofilament whip, holsters and belt-pouches. There was also what looked like a commlink, of a model he did not recognise.

"Against my better judgement," Manda said, "I put a few new upgrades into your weapons. They should be future-proof now. They also don't need ammunition, which is a good thing as it's a little hard to come by where you're going." He hung his head slightly, shaking it. "I still wish I hadn't set you up with that equipment. Technomancy was banned for a damn good reason, even if we did need it more than ever in the war."

Alan looked apologetically at the dragon-in-human-form. He often regretted making Manda upgrade his weapons to carry Technomantic properties, knowing his stance on the matter of that particular technology. Now that it had been properly outlawed, he knew that Manda was risking a lot by doing this for him, and he knew he could not express his gratitude in a satisfying manner. He only hoped that Manda wouldn't go the same way as so many others who had tried to help him in the past. Manda sensed Alan's thoughts and shook himself.

"Don't you start thinking like that," he scolded Alan. "If you can't get your head together, what chance would you have on this little mission of yours?" Alan shook himself.

"Why don't you come with me?" he asked. If there was one person Alan knew he wanted to face the unknown regions of space with, it was this Eastern Dragon.

"Me? Go up there?" Manda asked doubtfully, before shaking his head. "No, Alan. For one thing, I've already been. I came home on the _Shadow of Intent_ when I suspected Shipmaster Rtas 'Vadum to be another possible Liche candidate of King Ghidorah's. I've just now gotten back, and I'm not eager to go up there again. I've had enough to last me for centuries."

Alan sighed, and nodded. He was half-afraid that would be Manda's answer. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face this alone. He tried to push the negative connotations of that thought out of his head, trying to see it as just another trial that he had to face. Part of him wanted to believe that Kiryuu had done this on purpose, as some other part of his 'training' that he had mentioned back in the late 21st century. He was sure that Kiryuu had never intended to die, however, and decided just to remain focused on the task at hand rather than speculate on crackpot conspiracy theories. He had had enough of doing that to last him a lifetime.

"Well," he said, trying to brighten up, "I'd better be going. The sooner I can get a ship, the sooner I can get started."

"Do you need a ride?" Manda asked.

"Wouldn't say no," Alan replied. "Just drop me off outside the nearest airport and I'll take it from there."

Manda nodded, and once Alan had walked to the cabin's wooden porch and picked up a backpack, the two were soon riding out of the marshlands and back to relative civilisation. The trip passed in silence, and soon Manda had stopped a good distance away from the airport. He was sure that Alan wasn't going to go on a plane like any other passenger, not if he wanted to avoid attracting attention, but it seemed the mutant had everything planned out. As Alan stepped out and began to move towards the airport, Manda called after him.

"Alan," he called. The two looked at each other for a moment, as if evaluating each other's worth. Finally, Manda broke the silence.

"Come back alive," he said, with a smile. Alan just nodded and continued on his way as Manda started the car and drove past him. Around him, night had fallen, and the sound of crickets could now be heard all around him. Looking up, he saw that it was a clear night, the stars twinkling in the blackness. He felt glad that, if luck was on his side, he would soon be getting a closer look at those stars and whatever planets they had in their own systems.


	2. Firefly History 101

**Firefly History 101**

Lofwyr had listened to Alan's account with great interest. The mutant's account was incomplete – there were details that he had tried to hide, such as the supplier of his weaponry – but the dragon had pulled them out of his head anyway. It still amused him a great deal how lesser creatures thought they could resist his mind-reading abilities. When Alan had finished, he let out a deep, grand laugh.

"So let me see if I understand this correctly," Lofwyr said, still chuckling. "You came all the way to Essen to take one of my spaceships – one of my antiques, no less – so you could go out into space and find Kiryuu's body?"

"That's the idea," Alan replied. This only prompted Lofwyr to start laughing again. Clearly he thought this idea was highly amusing.

"Forgive me, Mr. Tyler," Lofwyr chuckled, "but I was led to believe that you had little love for your grandfather. I thought you would be jumping for joy at the news of his loss."

"In another life, maybe," Alan replied. "Things change."

"Evidently," Lofwyr replied, failing to stifle a continued chuckle. He stooped down close to Alan and began examining the Technomantic weaponry.

"Now what do we have here?" he said, holding up the revolver. "A modified Ruger Super Warhawk; they stopped making these in 2117." He flipped open the bullet chamber. Each slot where the bullets were supposed to go was now filled with a crystalline substance. "So the chamber now remains fixed, and its position now determines what type of shots come out of the barrel... I imagine there is a recharge period after a certain amount of shots are fired... Oh! And you have a shield-breaker mode as well! Made just in case you come across Forerunner technology, no doubt...

"Now then, let's see," he continued, placing the gun back on the floor and picking up the whip. He released the nanowire line and let it fall free while he examined the handle.

"So this twists around, and..." he muttered, twisting the bottom of the handle until it clicked into place. Instantly the whip glowed brightly in a vivid blue colour and crackled with energy. "Ah, I see. So twisting the handle imbues it with the properties of a Sangheili energy sword. Very ingenious, though not as elegant as the genuine article." He gave a loud tutting sound, placing the whip back on the floor and putting the crystal back in the pouch. "You know, you really shouldn't be carrying such toys around in this day and age. I shall have to have some stern words with your provider."

Alan had been rather calm up until this point, doing his best to ignore Lofwyr's bluster. However, his expression suddenly turned venomous.

"Leave him out of this," he snarled. Lofwyr simply rolled his eyes.

"Now then," he said, resuming that strange, almost childish curiosity. "I simply must know this. Why come here to get a ship? Why go to so much trouble to break into my facility, and even more trouble to get inside my personal workshop? You could have got a ship for this endeavour from just about anywhere, and through somewhat more legal means."

"Where's the fun in that?" Alan said flatly.

"Oh, I see," Lofwyr replied. "You wanted one last shot at going down in the annals of infamy. You wanted to commit a crime against me even more outrageous than Benny's little stunt." He snarled at the mention of that name. Benny was a famous shadowrunner who had duct-taped Lofwyr to the side of a building belonging to Malcho back in the 21st century, and the dragon hoped that he was now burning in a special level of Hell reserved just for him. "Yes," he continued. "I can see how pulling off a theft of such magnitude and daring, especially one right under my snout, would be very appealing to a life-long thrill-seeker such as yourself." He paced for a little while, regarding Alan carefully, still smiling oddly.

"You know," he finally said, "I have long been curious as to what your kind taste like. At last, I have a sample right in front of me, just bite-sized." He was sorely tempted to change into his magnificent dragon form, just to add to the theatricality of that statement, but doing so would mean he risked damaging some of the ships in the hangar. As it was, he was disappointed that Alan did not even so much as squirm at the thought, instead continuing to look at him with an annoyingly defiant expression.

"However," he continued, smirking, "I must admit that you have sparked my interest with this plan of yours. Your grandfather was both a strong ally and a worthy adversary. He was one of the smartest, strongest and most iron-willed beings to ever have existed in the history of this planet. I am curious enough to see if these qualities run in the family."

With that, and to Alan's surprise, he opened the handcuffs and removed them. Alan pulled himself to his feet, looking very wary. He was sure that Lofwyr was toying with him somehow.

"Now," Lofwyr added, sweeping his arm around to indicate the various spacecraft in the hangar. "Do you see anything you like?"

Alan looked around him at the various antique ships. They were all in various states of wear and tear, depending on how much time Lofwyr had been able to spend on tinkering with them. Any one of them could have suited his needs when they were fixed up, but one in-particular had caught his eye. He pointed at a ship that vaguely resembled a bird in its design, with a metal 'beak' on the front at the end of a long neck. The main body was flanked by two rotating jets, while on the rear was what looked like a gigantic, bulbous engine which reminded Alan of the abdomens on some species of insect. Painted on the side of the beak-like cockpit was one word in both English and Mandarin Chinese; '_Serenity_'.

"Ah, the Firefly!" Lofwyr announced rather proudly, grinning from ear to ear. "I am glad she caught your attention. I have to admit that she is a personal favourite of mine. This particular Firefly has a lot of stories to tell."

"I don't recall stopping by for a history lesson, Lofwyr," Alan said sarcastically.

"Need I remind you," Lofwyr replied, "that I am the one holding what you seek? If you do not wish for this meeting to end badly, I would advise you to allow an old dragon to indulge himself for a moment." He took Alan's silence to be a sign of compliance, and so he continued to speak.

"Saeder-Krupp does not only make the larger frigates and capital ships used by the UNSC. For a long time, especially in the early days of space exploration, I designed a number of smaller ships intended for private use. The Firefly class, first constructed over a hundred years ago, was a particular favourite among traders looking to get from A to B quickly and safely, not to mention that it was popular with smugglers due to some design oversights on my part that created a lot of hidden spaces. After a while, however, the Firefly became outmoded as propulsion technology advanced further, though unlike the Sangheili we are still some way off from perfecting slip-space travel with the tools available to us.

"The _Serenity_ has become particularly valuable, as it was one of the first Fireflies to roll off the production line. It is a testament to their durability that she has remained in reasonably good condition for so long. It embarrasses me to admit it, but not long after she was built the _Serenity_ was stolen from me, by a treacherous employee who doubtless sought to make a profit by selling a working model to a rival. Evidently, that never happened, but the ship was taken beyond even my grasp.

"The _Serenity_ eventually found its way to 34 Tauri, a star cluster with over 70 planetary bodies contained within. Terraforming had been taking place on those worlds since man started to expand its empire beyond the stars in the early 22nd century. However, this particular system had lost contact with Earth. Some form of unique phenomena in that region of the galaxy disrupted long-range communication channels for a long time; so long, in fact, that the frontiersmen who inhabited those worlds believed that Earth had been destroyed, or at least abandoned. After a time they stopped trying to contact Earth, even long after communication became possible again.

"Then came the rise of the Alliance. They appointed themselves as the lawbringers and guardians of 34 Tauri, and decided that all of the planets in that system were to be united in their perceived utopia, whether the inhabitants wanted it or not. The Independents put up a good fight, but in the end they were crushed under the heels of progress. The _Serenity_ is named after the Battle of Serenity Valley, the most decisive conflict in the civil war. It was a battle which the Independents lost, securing victory for the Alliance.

"The _Serenity_, meanwhile, was not sold to a promising business rival as the thief had hoped. He had come to this system confident that he would be out of my reach there, for it is now known that the Alliance was blocking any transmissions from Earth in order to make their control of the system complete. Instead of the riches he hoped for, however, he ended up selling the ship to a scrap merchant. I suspect the Alliance then silenced him, out of fear of him spreading the news about Earth's continued survival. After several years of being handed down through various owners, she eventually found her way into the hands of one Malcolm Reynolds, a former soldier who fought for the Independents. He was the one who named the ship. He believed that once you had set foot in Serenity Valley, you never truly leave.

"That brings us to the year 2517, when a series of circumstances and misadventures led Reynolds and his crew to discover the true lengths that the Alliance would go to for total thought control. They discovered that, on the planet Miranda, the Alliance had engineered a drug designed to suppress aggression, in theory rendering the planet free from violence. They administered this to the population, and the results, needless to say, were disastrous. Most of the population stopped caring about anything, even eating, sleeping, and all the other necessities for survival, and simply let themselves die. About ten percent of them became extremely aggressive and mentally unstable, eventually leaving the planet and becoming the monstrous, cannibalistic Reavers that had been attacking ships in the system for years, feasting on all that they captured.

"Upon discovering this, Reynolds resolved to spread the word to all of 34 Tauri, and was eventually successful. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that the strength of the transmitter he used could send the signal much farther than he had intended. The signal reached Earth, making the news of the Alliance's activities the first transmission we had received from 34 Tauri in nearly three centuries. The Alliance soon collapsed, and the system was brought under UNSC jurisdiction.

"That was when I finally gained the chance to reclaim my stolen property, after I had lost all hope of doing so. Reynolds and the _Serenity_ were brought back to Earth, and I was able to broker a deal; if he returned the ship to my custody, then I would give him and his crew protection from reprisal by Alliance loyalists. This, as it turned out, proved to be a fortuitous arrangement for them, as not even 34 Tauri managed to avoid the Covenant's gaze. Many of those worlds are now glassed, but the survivors of the _Serenity_ crew escaped the destruction, while the ship itself has been taken care of, here in my own workshop."

After he finished his speech, he turned to look at Alan, who seemed to have been on the verge of falling asleep. He could tell that the mutant was waiting for whatever fate he had concocted to finally come. He looked amused as he approached Alan again.

"Which brings me to the point of all of this," he said. "You wish to become the new Captain of the _Serenity_, and use her to find Kiryuu Knight. As I have explained, I am not without some interest in this matter, and I believe we can come to a reasonable agreement. I will loan you the _Serenity_, and I will even supply you with a crew and some supplies to get you started."

"That's surprisingly generous, coming from you," Alan retorted. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is," Lofwyr said, smirking, "that you are not to return to Earth empty-handed. I want this investment of mine to pay off, and the next time I see this ship it will have Kiryuu on board, whatever his condition may be. If not..." His smirk broadened into a wicked grin. "Well, I have a space reserved just for you on my menu, if it should come to that."

Alan sighed, looking around him. Now that Lofwyr had said it, the realisation that he may never see Earth again seemed to be pressing down on his shoulders like lead weights. It seemed that he had most definitely got himself into a bind, and Kiryuu was the only way out. At the end of the day there only seemed to be one possible path he could take; find Kiryuu, find him fast, and drop anyone who tried to stop him. He turned back to Lofwyr and nodded.

"Deal," he said. Lofwyr chuckled at this, highly amused that Alan seemed to be treating this seriously.

"It will take at least a day, perhaps more, to prepare the ship and gather everything you need for the trip. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy your stay in Essen and get your affairs in order. I will summon you once everything is prepared." With that, he allowed Alan to retrieve his equipment before the two started to make their way out of the hangar. It was then that Lofwyr inhaled deeply, before suddenly making a gagging noise.

"Did someone urinate in here?" he asked, viciously.

"Oh, that would be one of your men," Alan said, barely restraining the urge to vomit. "I think his nametag said Munroe, or something. You might want to reassure him that I don't eat kids."


	3. I Christen Thee

**I Christen Thee...**

Two uneventful days passed for Alan. He of course never strayed too far from Essen, in case he should suddenly be contacted. Lofwyr had mentioned to him that he was waiting on some items from abroad before the _Serenity_ would be ready to fly, though Alan found that he was having trouble keeping himself busy during the wait. He did not dare to travel out in the daytime, for he knew people would not be used to his appearance and he wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble at present. The last time he had been around others he had gotten a lot of odd looks which made him uncomfortable.

Though he had been told to get his affairs in order, it seemed there were not that many that he needed to sort out. An idle search through whatever passed for the Matrix these days revealed that his bank account had disappeared, and there was no record of him anywhere. That made sense, since Kiryuu had put every effort into making sure the UNSC didn't find out about Alan's existence. He thought it strange that no notes seemed to have been left for him telling him what the situation was now, though he presumed that was in case they were lost or intercepted.

He wished that Lofwyr wasn't apparently spoon-feeding him with his offers of gathering a crew and supplies, but if Alan was being honest with himself he would not know where to begin on that front had he been expected to do it by himself. He was not sure how anyone was supposed to prepare themselves for space travel; the most experience he had ever had was a brief period as an unwanted passenger on a Sangheili ship, and even then the farthest he had gotten was Io. He only wished he was not indebted to Lofwyr for this; he hated being in any sort of debt.

At last, after what felt like too much time to him, Alan received a message from Lofwyr. He was to be outside Warehouse Eight at Site Alpha after sunset, and everything was in the final stages of preparation. He was told that the guards would let him in, but he didn't like the idea of being searched and going into that place unarmed in case Lofwyr tried anything. So that night, carrying a backpack full of the few worldly possessions he had left, he re-entered the Saeder-Krupp compound in the same way he had the other night; by vaulting over the perimeter wall, keeping a sharp eye out for searchlights, sensors or guard patrols.

As his feet hit the concrete, he dived into the shadow of the nearest building. As he crouched behind a pile of crates, he felt as if he was back in his element. He had spent several decades as a shadowrunner back in the 21st century, and did this sort of activity rather regularly. Only a few nights ago he had managed to get inside the hangar which Lofwyr considered his treasure trove. He felt reassured that he was picking up the skills again so quickly, for he was sure they would be necessary even in space on some alien planet.

"Need a hand down there, mate?" a sneering voice with traces of a Cockney accent said quietly. Alan spun round as something jumped down from the crates behind him. In spite of the darkness, Alan could see fine thanks to his mutated eyes, and he immediately saw that the person who had accosted him was not actually human. It looked in some ways like a large anthropomorphic eagle, complete with a large, hooked yellow beak on its face and large feathery wings growing out of its back. Unlike any bird, however, the body was covered in green leathery skin rather than feathers, it had a clump of brown hair on top of its head and a long tail snaked behind it with a clump of brown fur on the tip. It was dressed in dark-blue body armour, complete with wrist and ankle guards. As it looked at him with piercing golden eyes, its beak crooked into a sneer, Alan realised it more closely resembled the gryphon of legend rather than any bird. For a moment he was in shock, unable to think of a coherent thing to say.

"Like what you see?" the stranger replied, still smirking. "I'm flattered, mate, but I'm afraid I don't swing that way."

"Excuse me?" Alan replied.

"Boy, oh boy," the creature sighed, "your brain really is bust tonight, isn't it? First you break in, now you can't even recognise a simple joke. Mind you, Lofwyr did say you wouldn't be the type to use the door if he said you could. Are you always this mistrusting?"

"You..." Alan stammered, now recovering from the initial shock of his acquaintance's appearance. "You were expecting me?"

"You got that right, matey," the creature replied. "The name's Alistair, and Lofwyr told me to expect an ugly bugger for an appointment tonight. We'd best be getting to Warehouse Eight now." As he turned to lead Alan in the direction of the warehouse, he looked back at the mutant, scratching his chin and smirking. "You know, if you stick a pair of wings on you could probably pass for a gargoyle, only without that whole 'turn into stone during the day' malarkey."

"Wait, wait," Alan said, following Alistair across the concrete. "You're a gargoyle?"

"Too bloody right," Alistair replied. "Not all non-humans have been wiped out, you know."

"But I've seen gargoyles before," Alan replied, in a confused tone. "None of them looked like animals."

"Obviously not London gargoyles then," Alistair shrugged. "All of us in the London clan look like different animals, we always have. One of my best friends looks like a warthog, poor soul."

Alan shook his head, holding his head in a claw. "Just when I think I have everything figured out..." he muttered.

As Alan and Alistair headed across the dark compound, Alan noticed that things were getting much busier the further in they went. Technicians and security personal were running hither and thither, while some were driving forklifts and other loading vehicles, carrying equipment about the place. A few shouted "Clear the way!" as they passed Alan and Alistair.

Eventually, the two reached a large landing pad outside Warehouse Eight, which was where the heart of the activity seemed to lie. The _Serenity_ had been moved outside the hangar, occupying a large amount of concrete as the moonlight glistened off the metal. Various workmen were clambering around the outside of the ship, making repairs to the plating. The door leading up to the ship's cargo bay was open, a ramp extending to allow vehicles to enter and exit. All of the lights inside the ship were turned on. Now that Alan was getting a good look at the ship he was beginning to doubt whether it would be able to fly at all.

"A beauty of a ship you picked there, mate," Alistair said, mockingly. Alan just gave him a frosty glare, but he could not help feeling that the gargoyle had a point. He knew he had made a lot of bad decisions in his life, but this was somewhere near the top of the list. He had the feeling that this was some sort of practical joke on Lofwyr's part, but in the end thought it best to humour him and walked on board the _Serenity_ to have a look.

The ramp led up to a moderately-sized cargo bay, the curved walls lined with metal plates that had apparently been placed at complete random. Various gantries and staircases led from the floor to several doors leading to other parts of the ship, and there was a trapdoor in the centre of the floor. At present the space was being filled with various large crates and equipment wrapped in nets, including a rust-coloured quad bike with a large trailer attached. Alan scoffed at the sight of it.

"Give me two wheels any day," he said.

"I hardly think Lofwyr took your motoring habits into account, mate," Alistair scoffed. He followed Alan through an egg-shaped door on the ground level, which led to a wider space filled with sofas, coffee tables and a working trideo system. The room had a small inner chamber containing a fully-stocked infirmary, while a passage led towards sliding doors fitted with yellow glass. A flight of stairs led up to a corridor, and down the left-hand side Alan came across the engine room, which was a small space taken up mostly by the engine itself. For some reason, there was a hammock pressed flat against one wall. The visible part of the engine itself basically amounted to a large rotating drum, with a variety of tubes, cables, circuit boards and metal plates attached.

"Oh, I see," a cheery female voice was saying from somewhere near Alan's feet. He looked down to see two pairs of jean-covered legs sticking out from underneath the engine. "You fitted this to make the fusion drive burn harder for longer?"

"I certainly did," Lofwyr's unmistakeable voice said. "One of the little modifications I made to this vessel that I am especially proud of. It will never be slip-space fast, but it will get you to where you need to be in a hurry."

"Wow," the woman was saying in a tone of complete awe. "I wish mother was here to see all this. She'd be mighty impressed."

"She was clearly a marvel with machinery," Lofwyr said. "I was surprised at how little work I had to do to the engines. Still, I built the Firefly series for durability and reliability; as long as they are kept maintained, they will fly forever."

"Doesn't look like it, from where I'm standing," Alan said loudly. He stood back to let Lofwyr and his acquaintance slide from under the engine on separate trolleys. Both were covered from head to foot in engine grease; Lofwyr in-particular looked unrecognisable, wearing a set of dirty overalls. So too was the woman, who Alan noticed that, under the grease, she was rather pretty, with long brown hair draping over her shoulders.

"Ah, Alan," Lofwyr said with a grin. "I do hope you'll forgive me for not looking my finest and rolling out the red carpet for your arrival."

"I never figured you to be the sort who mucks in with Joe Average," Alan scoffed.

"I did not become a captain of industry on mere theory alone," Lofwyr said, rather proudly. "Besides, I tinker with my collection in the small amount of spare time I have. I try to improve their mechanisms while still retaining their antique charm."

"'Antique' being the operative word," Alan said. At this, the woman's expression looked rather scandalous.

"It is not wise to insult the _Serenity_ around my colleague here," Lofwyr said, indicating the woman. "Appearances are very deceptive."

"You're no Elite assault carrier, yourself," the woman said to Alan in a haughty tone. "You don't hear me telling you to get a facelift, though."

"That's right, my dear," Lofwyr said, sounding amused. "Teach the silly captain a lesson."

"Oh wonderful," Alan said, rolling his eyes. "This ship isn't even in the air yet, and already I've got a mutiny on my hands." At this, the woman giggled.

"You're cute when you're flustered," she said.

"Anyway," Lofwyr said, "Alan, may I introduce you to Rachel Tam. Both of her parents and one of her aunts were part of the previous crew. It seems young Rachel has picked up her mother's talent for machines, and so I brought her in to be your engineer. She will keep your ship running, no matter what."

"I know something about motors," Alan said.

"This is a touch more complicated than a motorbike, Alan," Lofwyr said, smirking. "Anyway, keep the parts coming in and Rachel will keep the engine going."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Captain," Rachel said with a gleam in her eye.

"I see you have already found Alistair," Lofwyr said, indicating the gargoyle, who had been watching the scene with great amusement.

"More like I found him, sir," Alistair said. "You were right about this one; he don't like using the door."

"Alistair will act as your First Mate on the voyage," Lofwyr said.

"Not to bite the hand that feeds," Alan said warily, "but won't this add to our problems? Gargoyles can't do much during the day."

"He is an excellent tactician and a cunning warrior," Lofwyr said. "I assure you that he will prove his worth many times over. You will just have to be careful how you plan the timing of your operations, that is all."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sir," Alistair said smarmily.

"I also suggest tying up his beak on occasion," Lofwyr said to Alan. "You may need a break from it every now and then.

"Anyway," he continued, "I should give you the tour. This is the engine room, obviously. The fusion drive will carry you through space at an incredible speed. It will still take time for you to get anywhere, of course; remember that you do not have slip-space capability. Do not let it burn for too long, just to be on the safe side. Finally, whatever you do, do not activate the drive when you're still in the atmosphere. The explosion can punch a crater in a planet's surface the size of a small city. Now if you will follow me."

"I'll be right here if you need me, Captain," Rachel said cheerily. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Tyler!"

As Lofwyr, Alan and Alistair walked out of the engine room and down the corridor, Lofwyr indicated the staircase which Alan had just come from.

"Down those stairs," he said, "you'll find the common room, the infirmary, and a set of passenger cabins, in case you want to make some extra money by getting settlers where they want to be. From there, you can get to the cargo bay. Some of the plating in there is loose, with enough space behind it to hide any goods that are less-than-legal, should you choose to pick up old habits."

"Moi?" Alan said, in mock indignation. "As if I would!"

"The only thing I am concerned about is that you are able to keep to your end of the deal," Lofwyr said. "Also, I would rather see this ship returned in one piece. Any morally dubious activities between now and then are none of my concern.

"Anyway," he continued, as the group stepped through into a very comfortable-looking room with a long wooden dining table, a small kitchen area, and the walls painted in a cheery yellow colour. "Here you have a dining room, kitchen and lounge all in one. Most of the time you will have to survive on protein supplements, but agriculture on the planets is gradually improving, so you may be able to acquire meat and vegetables on your travels."

"I just hope someone on this ship can cook," Alistair said wryly. "I'm out of luck if it involves anything more complicated than using a microwave and a tin-opener."

Alan shook his head. He was a terrible cook, and now he was getting worried about how they would survive out in space if the food supplies ran dry. He just hoped that there wouldn't be long stretches between pit stops. He followed Lofwyr and Alistair through the opposite door, passing a pair of doors that led to small closets. If he remembered the layout of the ship from the outside well, they were now in the neck section leading up to the flight deck.

"Through here," Lofwyr said, "are five cabins for the crew. Fortunately there are just enough cabins for one each, so there should be no awkward cabin-sharing going on."

"Rachel's the only human on this ship so far," Alan said. "I seriously doubt anything of that sort's going to happen out there."

"No lady Godzillas out there, eh?" Alistair asked. Alan looked at Lofwyr, his eyes narrowed.

"How many people did you tell?" he snarled.

"Only your crew, Alan," Lofwyr replied. "The rest of my staff involved in preparing this ship believes you are another gargoyle. Alistair already knew the truth anyway. In fact, you are partly the reason he agreed to lend his assistance."

"How did you know?" Alan asked Alistair, incredulous.

"It's a long story, mate," Alistair said, shrugging. "You might get to hear it sometime."

"Besides," Lofwyr chimed in, "it is not difficult for an intelligent being to figure out. You look like a miniature version of your surrogate father these days, anyway."

"Well..." Alan murmured. "As long as it's only the crew..."

"Want us to take a vow of silence?" Alistair said, smirking. "That might make the trip a bit awkward though, since there won't be much in the way of conversation."

"Let's just get this tour finished," Alan said. "The sooner we start, the sooner we can be away from here."

"Alright," Alistair shrugged. "Keep your wig on."

The group headed down the corridor, past a small side-passage and up a small flight of steps and onto the main flight deck. The room had two consoles, a stepladder leading down to a small observation deck, and most of the ceiling was comprised of windows looking out across the dark complex and into the night sky. Sat at one of the consoles was a thin, pale man with a wrinkled face and a receding hairline, his hair brown and lanky. He gave a curt nod before returning his attention to the right-hand console.

"The left-hand console is for the co-pilot," Lofwyr explained. "The right-hand console is the pilot's seat. Speaking of which, it seems your pilot is here already. How are the systems, Bishop?"

"Magnificent," the man known as Bishop replied. "For such old technology, it is incredibly durable. I can see that you built the Firefly class to last, Lofwyr. We will be ready to leave as soon as the word is given." He stood up and moved away from the console, looking at Alan with a politely curious expression. "So this is our captain, and soon-to-be captor?"

"Captor?" Alan asked, puzzled. "What's he talking about?"

"It is part of the cover story I have prepared," Lofwyr replied. "As far as everyone helping to prepare for tonight's launch knows, this ship is being used for a simple transportation mission as part of a test flight. The story will be that you kidnapped the crew and stole the ship." He smiled slyly at Alan. "Just a little extra motivation to not return to Earth empty-handed."

"Why, I oughta-" Alan snarled, raising his fist. Alistair, however, placed a talon on his shoulder.

"Do you really want this mission to be over before it's begun?" he asked. The surprisingly calm tone of his voice seemed to bring Alan to his senses, and he lowered his fist.

"I assure you, Captain," Bishop said, unperturbed, "that I will be a willing hostage. I will guide the _Serenity_ to wherever you wish her to go, and as quickly as her engines will allow."

Alan just nodded, still rather taken aback at Lofwyr's latest surprise. He hadn't expected them to become fugitives. It was probably the most plausible cover story that Lofwyr could have thought of in the circumstances, but it brought a fresh wave of doubt washing over him.

"Excellent," Lofwyr said. "Well, we might as well see what goodies you have to take with you on your journey. Come with me to the cargo hold."

It seemed Lofwyr was rather enjoying this opportunity to take Alan around the crowning piece of his collection. There was an odd smile on his face as he led Alan past the crew's cabins and into the small side-passage, which had a small hatch in the ceiling that led back outside. As he led Alan and Alistair down a flight of steps and onto one of the upper gantries in the cargo bay, he hummed oddly to himself. This endeavour seemed to make him feel young again, and he deeply regretted that he would not be able to fly in his ship himself; there were some ancient laws that even he could not break. He indicated a pair of doors on either side of the upper level, both of them numbered.

"You will find a pair of space-ready shuttles behind those doors," he said. "Actually, Shuttle One was used as the residence of a registered Companion before. It took a while to remove the smell of incense from it."

"What?" Alan asked, now thoroughly confused.

"In 34 Tauri," Lofwyr explained, "it seems prostitution was legal. There was an entire Companion's Guild in that system, dedicated to the training of female Companions in the arts of seduction and etiquette. One could gain a lot of respect from such a profession, and having one on board your ship could get you into places you could not otherwise enter."

"So they were glorified whores?" Alan asked. Lofwyr chuckled.

"That is exactly what Malcolm Reynolds thought as well," he said. "Back then, he didn't expect to fall in love with Inara, the Companion who shared many of his adventures. I expect it was just as much a shock for her as well."

"What does Reynolds do these days?" Alan asked.

"Well," Lofwyr said, "shortly after many of the planets in 34 Tauri were glassed, he signed up with the ODSTs to fight the Covenant. Fortunately for him and Inara, he survived the war. I believe they now own a ranch in Texas."

"Sounds like a fairytale ending to me," Alan scoffed.

"Perhaps," Lofwyr chuckled. "After everything else you have seen, however, does such a thing really seem that hard to believe?"

Alan said nothing, but continued to follow Lofwyr along the gantry, passing a door on the end that lead to another cupboard, and heading down the metal steps to the floor level. By now the cargo bay was full on two sides with various crates, and most of the staff on the site had gone. Only a wiry-looking man with Hispanic features remained, with short, spiky black hair, a well-trimmed moustache and goatee, and wearing a dark green shirt and grey combats. He was kneeling on a long crate, propping what looked like a massive metal cannon on his knee, inspecting every part of the enormous weapon carefully. With a start Alan realised where he had seen a gun with a similar design before. He looked down at the crate, and saw not only the logo of Omak-Argon Industries, but three letters; B.F.G.

"Malcho..." Alan muttered.

"He thought you would like the name," Lofwyr smirked. "You will not believe how many favours I had to call in to get all of this equipment for your journey. Now I'm not the only one with a heavy investment in this enterprise. Malcho, the opportunistic bastard, saw it as a chance to test his new design in the field. He would say you would recognise its predecessor."

"I certainly do," Alan replied, still looking a little shocked. "That's a bloody Spartan Laser!" He looked up at the wiry Hispanic man, who was now looking at Alan with a grimace on his face.

"He wasn't kidding about you being one ugly puto either," he said. Alan chose to ignore that comment.

"So you're a Spartan, are you?" he asked. "They're the only people I know who can lift those things."

"I wish," the man snorted. "It's a new design; it's now light enough for us mere mortals to carry, but it still packs one hell of a punch. Malcho sent me here with the weapon to test it. He said he would rather invite a queen Invae to dinner than trust you with it."

"Funny," Alan said, "because I would say the same about the feather duster."

"He also gave me permission to test the weapon on you if you call him that," the man sneered.

"Now now, José," Lofwyr said pedantically, as if addressing an over-eager child. "I'm sure there are plenty of leftover Covenant out there to test your new toy on." He turned to Alan. "This is José Lovano, a former ODST turned hired gun. He's right in that Malcho wouldn't let the laser go without his hired help on board. You'll just have to put up with it, I'm afraid."

"Until someone else offers me more money anyway, amigo," José chimed in. He placed the huge laser back in its crate before sidling off up the stairs towards the crew's cabins.

"That's all I need," Alan groaned. "I wanted this operation to be top secret. Now I've got everybody's cronies snooping around."

"Hey," Alistair said, mocking indignation. "I don't snoop. I sneak. There's a difference."

Lofwyr smiled, taking Alan aside for a moment.

"Remember," he said, "do not return empty-handed. Only then will I allow you to set foot on Earth again. Even if you outrun the UNSC, I can still hunt you myself."

"Spare me," Alan said in a biting tone. "I know what's at stake. Just tell me something first." Lofwyr nodded.

"Do you believe Kiryuu's alive?" Alan asked. "You wouldn't be doing all this if you didn't believe there was even a chance of him being brought back, that much I'm sure of." Lofwyr paused for a moment, as if considering his answer.

"Have you ever heard of the famous thought experiment 'Schrödinger's Cat'?" Lofwyr asked, chuckling.

"Actually, I have," Alan replied. "I do read, you know. It's something about sticking a cat in a box with a vial of acid that only breaks if a very specific condition is met. The theory is that the cat's state cannot be determined until the box is opened and its condition is observed. It's all a bunch of rhetorical nonsense though."

"Perhaps," Lofwyr replied. "However, right now, Kiryuu is that same cat in the box, surrounded by unknown dangers. Like the cat, his fate could be left in the hands of a single atom. Until I observe his condition with my own eyes, he is both alive and dead."

"That's... reassuring," Alan said with evident doubt.

"Will you be disappointed if Kiryuu is found alive?" Lofwyr asked, smirking.

"What?" Alan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm not getting my hopes up either way."

"Very sensible," Lofwyr said, nodding. "You should only be disappointed if you do not find him at all. All I have left to say is to remain focused on the task at hand, and try to enjoy the journey itself. Oh, and do return my ship in one piece. I would hate to see all of my attempts to restore her gone to waste."

With that, Lofwyr tipped his head to both Alan and Alistair, and strolled out of the cargo bay and into the moonlight. He felt it was a shame that he could not go with them and see those distant stars himself, but without any Technomantic aids he would slip into the hibernation state known as Shal-Mora if he tried to go beyond the Earth which he was bound to. He was curious as to whether Alan could live up to Kiryuu's legacy. He hummed a couple of Toto tunes to himself as he walked across the concrete landing pad and got to a safe distance to witness the take-off.

Once safely away from the launch site, he radioed Alistair to let him know that they were not expecting any more supplies. Alistair took that as his cue to cross to the cargo door controls and raise the ramp. As it closed, Alan noticed a small door was also part of the ramp, just before a pair of large doors slid shut. The cargo door also doubled as an airlock. He groaned as Alistair moved away from the console and beckoned Alan up the nearby steps.

"He plans to finish me off," he said as he headed up the steps to the upper gantry. "He's doing this just to see me fail. He certainly knows how to hold a grudge."

"You always this paranoid?" Alistair asked.

"When it comes to dragons, yes," Alan spat. "Back in the 21st century, we had a saying; 'Never Deal with a Dragon'. It's ironic that a dragon was the first person I heard saying that, but it's true; they always come up with a way of making life difficult."

"Yet you made a deal with a dragon to get your arse into space," Alistair said, sounding amused. "The irony is delicious."

"Don't remind me," Alan groaned. The two of them were soon walking down the passage leading to the flight deck. A loud humming sound could be heard, indicating that the engines were being prepared.

"Lofwyr said I'm to follow your orders to the letter," Alistair said.

"Did he?" Alan asked, dubiously. "Look, leading a team of shadowrunners is one thing, but being the captain of a sodding spaceship is a different kettle of fish. Frankly, I'd rather you spoke your mind."

"You're going to regret saying that," Alistair smirked. "Also, just so you know, if you ask me to put on a dress and dance the cann-cann, I'm drawing the line, Covenant or no."

"I don't know," Alan said, grinning and showing his sharp teeth. "That could be a useful distraction."

"I'm sure," Alistair chuckled. "We shoot them all while they fall over laughing." The two walked onto the flight deck, where Bishop was speaking to Lofwyr over a communicator.

"We can leave anytime, sir," he was saying. "Navigation, life-support, artificial gravity and hull integrity are all A-OK, and the engines are in the green."

"_Your trajectory is clear, Serenity,"_ Lofwyr was saying. _"All air and space traffic is away from your flight-path."_ He lowered his tone slightly. _"All that is left for me now is to wish you all the very best of luck."_ With that, he signed off.

"Well, you heard the man," Alan said. "We might as well try and get beyond the atmosphere first. Take us out."

"Roger," Bishop said, flipping some switches and grasping the steering column. Alistair pulled a small radio unit which acted as the ship's intercom down from the ceiling and spoke into it.

"Attention all hands," he said. "We're taking off now. Best make yourselves comfortable."

The humming of the engines grew louder and louder, until the ship actually started to tremble. At first, Alan thought the vibrations would shake the ship apart, until he saw the ground below begin to rapidly move out of view of the viewing ports as the ship made a vertical take-off. The engines on either side of the ship could be rotated more or less freely and independently, giving the ship incredible manoeuvrability. Alan spotted a potential problem in that there didn't seem to be any kind of mounted weaponry, and wished he had pointed out this potentially fatal flaw to Lofwyr. He sighed, knowing it was too late to do anything about it now, as he watched the night sky gradually get closer and closer. Strangely, in spite of the speed they were going to break through the atmosphere, he did not seem to be feeling any adverse effects from g-force. Space travel had come a long way since he had been placed in suspended animation.

"We have broken through the atmosphere, Captain," Bishop intoned after a minute. "We're now leaving Earth orbit."

Now out in the vacuum of space, Alan noticed that everything now seemed a lot quieter. In fact, there was no noise coming from outside at all. The rumbling also seemed to have stopped. It was clear that the _Serenity_ was back in her natural environment, and for the first time Alan felt the thrill of exploration begin to ignite like a fire in his body. Now that he was seeing the stars outside of Earth's atmosphere, he longed to see what mysteries the countless planets held.

"Do you have a starting point in mind, Captain?" Alistair asked.

"Captain?" Alan asked dumbly. He still was not quite used to being addressed by a title, so it took him a moment to realise that Alistair was talking to him.

"Oh right," he mumbled, "that's me. A first stop?"

"Yeah," Alistair said wryly. "You must have some idea of where to begin looking for Mr. President." Alan scratched his chin for a moment. He did have a destination in mind, but he knew it was incredibly risky.

"Bishop," he said, "what's the name of the planet the Elites are from?"

"Are you referring to the ex-Covenant race known as the Sangheili?" Bishop asked.

"That's them," Alan said, snapping his fingers. "I never could pronounce that name."

"I hate to disappoint you, Captain," Bishop said, sounding concerned, "but that is not something the UNSC has any knowledge of. Even after the Sangheili defected to our side in the war, they refused to divulge the location of their home-world. The only thing we are certain of is that it is far beyond the Outer Planets, so even if we knew where it was it would take years to get there, even at maximum speed."

"Wonderful," Alan replied, sarcastically. "Any other good news I should know about?"

"Well, in spite of your facetious tone," Bishop said calmly, "there is something else you should know. Your plan to make stops at human settlements will be extremely difficult. Many of the planets with human settlers were destroyed, glassed by the Covenant. It will be extremely hard to get supplies and replacement components should anything go wrong with the ship."

"So what you're saying is," Alan said, "that we can't go forward. Well, we can't bloody well go back either. Lofwyr made that clear to me."

Bishop looked away for a moment, apparently uncomfortable with looking at Alan's frustrated expression. He brought up some star charts on the computers and pointed to a likely-looking planet several light years away.

"I will set a course for the nearest surviving human colony," he said. "It is quite far out into space, but hopefully someone in such a distant sector will have received word on the status of the Sangheili people."

"Just out of curiosity," Alistair chimed in, "why them? We ain't exactly friendly with 'em, not after the war."

"I have..." Alan muttered. "It's a long shot, but I know someone among them who may be able to help us. From what I gather, he was in close contact with Kiryuu, so he may have some idea of what happened."

"Well, it's your call," Alistair shrugged. He turned to speak into the intercom again. "Rachel, is the fusion drive ready?"

"_She's raring to go, first mate,"_ Rachel said eagerly. _"She's eager to be put through her paces."_

While they had been talking, the _Serenity_ was passing by a structure Alan recognised. It looked like a large space station which was tethered to the Earth by a ringed column, which stretched for several miles to the planet's surface. This was the Quito Space Tether, which Alan had visited once not long after he had awakened from suspended animation. He wondered if Malcho was on the observation deck even now. He gave a one-fingered salute to the station, just in case the feathered serpent happened to be watching them depart.

"Alright then," he said. "Let's go. Fire up that drive and get us to that colony."

"Roger," Bishop said. With that, a high-pitched whining could be heard for a moment coming from the engine room, and a sudden jolt was felt. The increase in speed wasn't immediately apparent, until Alan saw the moon pass by at a much quicker speed than the space tether had. The realisation of how fast they were going made him feel slightly nauseous.

"It will be some time before we reach our destination, Captain," Bishop said. "I suggest we all make use of the cryo-stasis chambers on the ship. Lofwyr installed one in each crew and passenger cabin in case of long-distance space travel such as this."

Alan groaned. He had been in cryo-sleep once before for nearly 500 years, and he did not relish the idea of having to spend time in a tube again.

"Can you keep an eye on things here, Alistair?" Alan asked. "I just need to rest a moment. It's been a long day."

"You got it, mate," Alistair said. "Your cabin's the second one on your left. All your stuff's already there."

Alan walked down the corridor to the cabin Alistair had indicated. There was no obvious door; instead each cabin was punctuated by a set of metal rungs. Pressing his foot against the metal, the part of the wall moved inwards like a hatch, with the rungs forming a ladder down into the cabin. Alan climbed down and stepped into a modestly-sized cabin, complete with a bed and a shaving mirror. Below the shaving mirror were a sink and a toilet, currently on the other side of the wall behind revolving parts of it. His satchel, weapons and commlink were already there on the bed.

He sat on the bed for a moment, now feeling in complete despair. The situation had turned out to be worse than he though, and his plan was completely insane. From the sounds of things, he had essentially led his crew on a suicide mission. With the amount of time it would take to get anywhere, he knew that the chances of him finding anyone who could help were extremely slim. He wondered why he had decided to do this. Part of him decided that he had to have been feeling suicidal.

As he idly picked up the commlink and switched it on, he saw that someone had sent him a message. He opened it up, and found a note with a large amount of attachments. These attachments turned out to be books in digital format, the first of which was called _Strategy_ by Liddell-Hart. There were several other books as well, focusing on tactics, military intelligence, data analysis and that sort of thing, as well as reams of hand-written notes and addendums. Wondering who would send Alan books like this, he took a moment to read the note:

_Alan,_

_Kiryuu left these in my possession before he disappeared. He had always intended for you to read them. Considering what you are about to do, now seems as good a time as any to give them to you._

_It seems that Kiryuu was going to try to get you to think more like him, even though I feel that a man has to know his 'own swing', so to speak. He told me that this was a part of the training that he hoped you would undertake. He preferred it that you not know who they came from, but that now seems rather redundant._

_I will say that this was the key to Kiryuu's success. Think about the enemies that Kiryuu fought all those years ago, such as Biollante, Titanosaurus, the Mechagodzilla doppelganger, and especially King Ghidorah. In all of those instances, Kiryuu was most certainly 'overpowered' by them. Yet, as you know, he always won._

_It was not entirely because of Technomancy, the Oxygen Destroyer, or anything else like that. It was because he was smarter than them. He was probably smarter than Mothra or even Dunkelzahn._

_You can overcome anything that gets in your way, but you need to stop thinking like a scared human with Organiser G-1 in his body. It's time to start thinking like Kiryuu, if you will allow yourself to._

_Good luck out there in the Black._

_Manda_


	4. Fortune's Favour

**Fortune's Favour**

With the realisation that the mission now seemed to be a complete bust, the crew noticed that Alan was no longer filled with the energy and drive that had got him this far. He seemed to be somewhat deflated, spending a lot of time alone in his cabin and not speaking to anybody. Even at mealtimes he seemed highly troubled, and often had to be reminded about his food on the table, though José frequently spoke of his longing for real food over the various substitutes they had to digest. Curiously, Bishop didn't seem to eat anything at mealtimes; he usually took his food to the flight deck, claiming that he had to keep an eye on the ship's systems.

Alan was not the only one who seemed to be struggling on the ship. Alistair frequently complained of a constant lethargy, attributing it to the fact that there was no day or night in space. As a result, his body did not seem to know whether it should be asleep or awake, instead trying to reach a point halfway between the two which was now giving Alistair a lot of grief.

Since no huge occurrences needed his attention, Alan spent most of his time reading through the books that Kiryuu had left for him. They were very in-depth, and Kiryuu himself had added a great many notes and suggestions for alternative methods of achieving his goals. Part of Alan wondered why he was doing this, as he could not perceive many opportunities arising now to put those theories into practice, but he felt that he owed it to Kiryuu to do this study anyway. He resigned himself to the fact that, sooner or later, the crew would have to use the cryo-chambers if they hoped to survive the journey ahead, a journey that increasingly seemed to have no destination.

A few days into the flight, not far beyond the boundary of the Sol System, was when trouble struck. At first, it had seemed to be a day like any other, when all of a sudden the ship violently shook. In his cabin, Alan almost toppled off his bunk as the ship rocked. He jumped down off it and ran towards the ladder.

"_Captain, get up here!"_ Alistair's voice could be heard yelling through the intercom. Alan quickly climbed the ladder out of his cabin and ran to the flight deck. He found Alistair and José waiting for him, while Bishop struggled to retain control of the ship as the ship shook violently again.

"What the hell's going on?" Alan demanded.

"A Covenant capital ship," Bishop explained. "A CCS-class Battlecruiser, to be exact. It dropped out of slip-space right behind us and opened fire." He pointed to one of the scanners, where a diagnostic of the huge, gleaming battleship was displayed. With a start, Alan recognised the sleek design, knowing where he had seen a ship of that type before.

"Oh, Christ..." Alan muttered. "Don't tell me the Elites are after us now?"

"That is one possibility," Bishop said, concentrating on evading the plasma fire that whizzed past the ship. "The other is that the ship is still in the hands of the Jirahalnae."

"Jira-whatnow?" Alan asked.

"Our lads call 'em Brutes," Alistair chimed in. "Nasty ape-things that are still loyal to the Covenant. I should point out that they're not known for taking prisoners."

"Shit..." Alan muttered, as another near-miss caused the ship to rock. He headed to the intercom and opened a channel to the engine room. "Rachel, tell me we can use the fusion drive and get out of here!"

"_No can do, Captain!"_ Rachel's worried voice proclaimed. _"We already pushed it to its limits today! Setting it off now could... well, I don't want to think about it!"_

At that moment, a loud crashing sound echoed through the ship, and it suddenly jolted violently from side to side. All of the crew was knocked off their feet. Bishop was thrown bodily from the pilot's console and went tumbling down the steps to the lower deck. He lay unconscious on the metal grating. The lights in the ship flickered, and Alistair ran to check the ship's status on one of the screens.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed. "They've taken out the starboard engine! We're sitting ducks!"

"This is what you get for having a ship with no guns, idiota!" José scolded, glaring at Alan as he staggered to his feet. Throwing a similarly dirty look back at him, Alan spoke into the intercom.

"Rachel," Alan called. "We'll have to risk it with the booster. It looks like we're dead either way. Let's at least-"

He suddenly went silent as a bright light filled the flight deck, coming from outside. Though no sound could be heard, it looked like something big had just happened to the right of the ship.

"Hold on a second, Rachel!" Alan called, before abandoning the intercom and grabbing the flight controls. The port-side engine still survived, and he was able to use it to turn the ship around and get a better view of what was happening. When Alan saw what was unfolding just behind the ship, his jaw dropped.

An enormous, glowing pool of light was shining brightly in the vacuum of space outside, not far behind the _Serenity_. Emerging from it was the biggest spaceship Alan had ever seen. It was so large that only a small fraction of it could be seen through the windows. It even dwarfed the destroyer that had attacked the _Serenity_. Its sleek silver surface flashed every so often as plasma fire spewed out of the gun turrets, heading towards the Jirahalnae ship.

"Caramba..." José breathed, now looking even more worried. "That's one of their assault carriers..."

Alan assumed he was referring to the Covenant ships, and he hoped and prayed that these new arrivals were somewhat less hostile to humans. There didn't seem to be much point in trying to run with the broken engines, so they merely watched as the destroyer tried to turn and engage the enormous assault carrier. The outcome of the battle, however, was inevitable, as the destroyer was clearly outclassed. The larger vessel soon fired a huge laser from the front into the opponent's hull, tearing it apart. The ship exploded, scattering its occupants to the stars.

Inside the _Serenity_, the battle made no sound, but the sight of it alone shocked Alan into silence. That had been far too close; if the victorious ship had been a second slower, it would have been too late. It seemed that, once again, luck was on his side. It was only then that he remembered that one of his crew was badly injured in the attack. The ensuing battle had momentarily pushed it out of his mind. He jumped down to the lower deck, to find Alistair tending to the unconscious Bishop. There was a deep cut across his forehead, but instead of the blood that Alan expected to see, a white fluid was slowly spilling out of the cut and onto Alistair's talons. Looking closer, he saw two small wires poking out of the wound.

"Looks like some wire or other in his head was knocked loose," Alistair said. "I dunno if Rachel can fix him, but it can't hurt to ask. Otherwise we'll have to start teaching ourselves how to fly a Firefly." He stopped short when he saw Alan looking at him, his face a mask of shock. The mutant kneeled closer to Bishop's body, seeing the white fluid and slowly touching the two loose wires. He looked at Alistair, his shock now beginning to turn into anger.

"Lofwyr didn't tell me he was putting a fucking robot on board!" he snarled.

"He prefers the term 'artificial person'," Alistair sighed. "Lofwyr obviously didn't think you needed to know."

"What?" Alan shouted. "He put me in charge of this damn ship! I have to know everything about my crew! Now you're telling me that there's no-one on the ship who can fix him?"

"Will you get a bloody grip on yourself?" Alistair said firmly. "I've already said Rachel might be able to knock up some sort of quick-fix, get him back on his feet again. Though I've gotta admit that I'm not sure human synthetics are her field..."

"He's done this to me on purpose..." Alan muttered angrily, staggering back up to the main flight control. "He's trying to drive me completely batty..."

"I guess you wouldn't have seen a Bishop model before," Alistair said. "There's always at least one on a spaceship, especially a deep-space operation. They act as science advisors and pilots. At least you never saw the days of the Ash model; now _those_ things were rotten to the core."

"Rachel," José said into the intercom. "You okay, mi amiga?"

"_I'm fine,"_ Rachel replied. _"Serenity's bruised really badly, though. Poor baby..."_

All at once a crackling sound came from the flight control. Alan moved over to it to see that one of the screens was now showing the face of a Sangheili. The four clicking mandibles moved in a disturbing manner as it spoke in a deep voice.

"_Earth vessel, this is the Separatist assault carrier, Shadow of Intent. Are you receiving me?"_

"Goddamned split-heads..." José snarled. Alan turned to look at his crew. José was scowling, a hand kept on the handle of the large ODST-issue handgun that was always holstered at his hip. Alistair had managed to carry the stricken Bishop up the steps, keeping a talon clamped firmly around the wound on his forehead to stop more of the fluid from leaking out. He too looked wary, as the _Shadow of Intent_ repeated its hailing twice more. In the end, Alan decided that he could not afford to take chances at present, not while his ship was dead in the proverbial water.

"_Shadow of Intent_," Alan replied into the communicator, "this is the Firefly-class transport ship, _Serenity_. We have been too badly damaged to get our engines running, and we've got injured crew members here. We request permission to dock with your ship while we make repairs and tend to our wounded."

The Sangheili faded from view; apparently he had signed off while he was consulting a superior. It was a full minute before he responded.

"_Permission granted, Serenity,"_ he said. _"We will use our gravity lift to tow your ship in. However, we will only permit you to enter our ship unarmed."_

"Understood," Alan replied. "You won't get any trouble from us." He signed off. José now looked murderous.

"What do you think you are doing?" he exclaimed. "You wanna let those split-heads walk all over us?"

"It's damn rude to shoot the guys who just saved our hides," Alan responded, doing his best to keep his temper. "Besides, we're in no position to run or fight anybody right now. Now that the Elites have actually shown themselves, I've got a plan, and all I want to hear from any of you right now is 'I understand, Captain'."

"I understand and agree, Captain," Alistair said, firmly. "Just keep in mind that we may have fought alongside the Elites in the end, but you couldn't say we're chummy. Still, there's nowt to be gained from jumping the gun at present. The last thing I want is for Earth to end up at war with them again."

"José?" Alan asked, firmly. The mercenary looked at Alan with a foul expression, unstrapping the holster that held his precious gun so close.

"I understand... Captain," he said rather scornfully.

"Rachel," Alistair said over the intercom. "Get the 'droid toolbox out of the infirmary and ready a stretcher in the cargo bay. Bishop's been hurt."

"_Understood, First Mate,"_ Rachel said. _"I'll do what I can with him, but those guys are a bit messy and icky to work with."_

As the group made their way to the cargo bay, José grabbed Alan's arm and looked at him with a steely expression.

"You're as crazy as Malcho said you were," he said.

"Maybe so," Alan replied. "It's got me this far, though." He moved to catch up with Alistair.

"I just hope someone on that ship's heard of either Kiryuu Knight or Cujo 'Mentatalee," he muttered.

The _Serenity_ was pulled towards the _Shadow of Intent_, bathed in the shimmering purple glow of the gravity lift. As it approached the assault carrier, the size of it became even more apparent. Characterised by the bulbous, whale-like front and bow sections, it could easily dwarf a significant portion of a large city back on Earth. The ship did not seem to have several smaller hangar bays, but instead it had a single cavernous hangar bay, filled with various Phantom dropships, Banshee fighters, Seraph starfighters, and even a Scarab or two. A UNSC Frigate could have comfortably fit inside the enormous space.

The _Serenity_ gently came to rest on the lavender floor. As the ramp leading to the cargo hold lowered, Alan was astounded at the sight of the alien technology around him as he, Alistair and José stepped out into the space. Close behind them was Rachel, pushing a gurney with the unconscious Bishop resting on it. It now dawned on Alan more than ever that the Earth's forces had been very fortunate indeed to even survive the war for so long, let alone emerge victorious.

He turned to survey the _Serenity_, and indeed the ship looked a mess. There were burn marks in the metal from several near-misses with plasma fire, while the starboard jet engine had been completely destroyed. Alan felt bad enough that he had let his ship suffer so much damage at this early stage, but Rachel seemed to be feeling even worse, looking on the verge of tears.

"Lofwyr's not gonna like this..." he muttered. "Good thing we won't be back on Earth for a couple of hundred years yet."

José kept looking frantically around him, still muttering about 'split-heads', which Alan understood to be one of several derogatory terms for the Sangheili. He was half-afraid that the mercenary was going to do something drastic, and could not help but wonder what he must have gone through in the war to make him so twitchy. José's mood only worsened when two large Sangheili, both well over seven feet tall, dressed in gleaming blue battle armour, and carrying large purple rifles which Alan recognised to be Covenant carbines approached them. As they spoke, the four mandibles which comprised their mouths quivered, making Alan feel somewhat uncomfortable.

"Shipmaster Alan Tyler?" one of the Sangheili asked, addressing Alan.

"Uh..." Alan replied, rather taken aback that he was being addressed directly, and almost forgetting that 'Shipmaster' was the Sangheili term for 'Captain'. "That's me."

"Your presence has been requested on the bridge," the guard said abruptly. "Your crew, however, must remain here."

"Don't worry about Bishop, Captain," Rachel called, leaning over the android and examining the exposed wiring. "He should be back on his feet by the time you get back. Now do these go to the audio or visual receptors?"

"Alistair," Alan said, "keep an eye on things here. Make sure José behaves himself."

"You got it, Captain," Alistair said, smirking. He turned to José, who was looking at both him and Alan with a decidedly sulky expression.

"You boys had better play nice!" Rachel said, in a surprisingly stern tone. "I've got serious-type work to do here!"

One of the guards led Alan out of the hangar and through a series of corridors, often leading him up inclines. The lavender passageways were dimly lit by green strip lights in the ceiling, but it would still have been difficult to see had Alan's eyes been normal human eyes. He was uncomfortably aware that the Sangheili he passed were staring and pointing at him, speaking to each other in their own alien language in hushed whispers. None of them had ever seen a creature like Alan before, and he was sure that Alistair was getting similar looks back in the hangar. He had half a mind to tell them to stop it, but he held himself in; he vividly remembered the last time he had done that, for he had almost been thrown out of an airlock for it.

After several minutes of walking in silence deeper inside the ship, Alan was escorted onto the cavernous bridge. The chamber resembled an auditorium, with various holographic displays lining the walls and a large raised podium in the centre. The area was as dimly-lit as the rest of the bridge. Alan often wondered if Sangheili were sensitive to strong light for everything to be arranged like this. He was led up the ramp to the podium, which surprised him as last time he had tried to do the same on the last Sangheili ship he was on, he had been stopped by guards. Instead, he was led to the top of the podium, which was empty save for one other Sangheili whose back was turned to him at present. Alan assumed that this was the Shipmaster.

"Dorl ym," the escort was saying, speaking in the Sangheili tongue. "Detseuqer uoy sa, tneserp si lessev Htrae eht fo retsampihS eht."

"Rethorb, llew yrev," the other Sangheili said. "Tsop ruoy ot nruter."

The escort bowed, and turned to face Alan.

"You will speak to him with the greatest of respect," he said. "Try anything and we will teach you a lesson you will not forget."

Alan didn't dare to argue, or snap back at him. If his plan was to succeed, he felt sure he had to be as polite and respectful as possible, even if it killed him. The escort walked back down the ramp as Alan turned to face the apparent Shipmaster of the _Shadow of Intent_. As the Shipmaster turned to face him, Alan saw that he was dressed differently to the other Sangheili. Compared to the sleek battle armour the average Sangheili wore, the Shipmaster's silver-coloured armour, while well-maintained, looked decidedly older, with the helmet having a more ornate shape. Strapped to his belt, Alan could see a large handle, which he recognised to be the hilt of an Energy Sword. This meant that this Sangheili could only be an Aristocrat, and a dangerous enemy if Alan crossed him.

The Shipmaster approached Alan and peered intently at him, examining him from every angle. Alan kept still and did not say a word, though he was unsure as to what the Shipmaster was doing and was now starting to get very nervous.

"Shipmaster Tyler," the Shipmaster then said, in a voice full of authority, "my name is Otto 'Gamam, the Arbiter of the Sangheili people and Shipmaster of the _Shadow of Intent_."

Alan wasn't sure what the Sangheili did to show respect, so Alan gave a traditional salute.

"Your arrival was very fortunate, Shipmaster," he said, trying to hide his Yorkshire accent behind a respectful tone. "On behalf of my crew, you have my deepest thanks."

"You are very welcome," Otto said. "Truthfully, however, we had not anticipated your ship's involvement. The destroyer that attacked you was a Jirahalnae straggler from a fleet which my own fleet, the Shadow of Fury, had engaged. When they moved into slip-space we pursued them. It is fortunate for us both that they could not resist trying to take a human trophy for themselves."

Alan was not sure how to respond to that. He was not sure if the Arbiter was being sarcastic, but decided against pressing the matter. Clearly, this being held a lot of influence, especially if he was in charge of an entire fleet of ships. If he played his cards right, his plan could work.

"Actually, it's lucky that I ran into you, Shipmaster," Alan said. "I'd been trying to find your homeworld."

"Sangheilios?" Otto exclaimed, in a mixed tone of surprise and amusement. "That is... how would you say it... a tall order for a ship such as yours which was clearly not intended for long-distance travel."

"Yes," Alan said, wearily. "I'm beginning to realise that."

"So tell me something, Shipmaster Tyler," Otto said, in a slightly sardonic tone. "Why would you try to reach Sangheilios, a journey which will take years without a slip-space drive, in a ship that seems to be technologically inferior even by the standards of Earth technology, with no means of defending yourself? What is so important about my people that would drive you to risk so much?"

Alan considered the Arbiter's tone to be somewhat high-and-mighty, as if he was mocking Alan for such a reckless action. He did his best to keep his temper, and answered.

"Frankly speaking," he said, "I need your help. Firstly, I was hoping to meet with one of your people, Shipmaster Cujo 'Mentatalee. I need his help for-"

"Stop!" Otto suddenly half-shouted, as if he was now genuinely surprised. He approached Alan. Like other Sangheili, he stood at nearly two feet taller than Alan, and the mutant could not help but feel intimidated as the Arbiter peered intently into his own eyes, peering down at him as if peering at a child that had let slip some dirty word.

"How do you know Cujo?" he asked intently. "What do you want with him?"

"He didn't tell you about me, did he?" Alan asked, his lip starting to curl into a half-smile. "Sounds like he kept his word then."

"What do you mean?" Otto demanded. "How do you know Cujo 'Mentatal?"

"Well," Alan replied, "to cut a long story short, Kiryuu Knight sent us both into Chicago, right into the middle of an Invae nest, to get a heart-shaped crystal that he'd lost in there. Kiryuu claimed it was for sentimental value, but I wasn't born yesterday." He paused for a moment. The events in Chicago were rather painful for him to recollect. There had been sights in there which reminded him of struggles from further in his past, experiences which he had hoped never to repeat.

"As it turned out, that crystal held the soul of Dunkelzahn himself! He was killed about 500 years ago, and yet there he was, clear as day! If it hadn't been for him, then me, Cujo, and everyone else with us would have been bug-food, or worse Invae drones, by now."

"Dunkelzahn..." Otto muttered. "I heard Telek speak of him... Was he not one of your Earth's... what do you call them... Presidents?"

"That's right," Alan nodded. "It turned out that he arranged his own assassination, so that he could try to stop this monster called King Ghidorah from coming back to Earth. Things didn't quite go according to plan though, so using that crystal he could come back to the world of the living to help us out. Kiryuu chewed him out for keeping him in the dark about his plans, I can tell you."

"So you were also acquainted with Kiryuu Knight?" Otto asked.

"You could say that, Shipmaster," Alan replied. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you know him?" Otto let out a deep sigh, and a look of regret could be seen on his alien face.

"I fought alongside him many times," he replied. "He even bested me once in combat. That was almost a lesson to me of just how powerful he was. He earned my respect, and I fought by his side to the very end."

"To the end?" Alan asked. "So you know what happened to him?"

"Of that, I am not certain," Otto said quietly. "The last time I saw him after we escaped the Ark, he was with the Spartan known as the Master Chief, in the hangar of the vessel we had used to escape. Telek and I succeeded in reaching the bridge, but the explosion engulfed half of the ship, including the hangar. We lost the aft half of our ship when we entered slip-space, the half which Knight and the Spartan were inside. Like so many others, I assumed that they had died."

Alan had the feeling that there was a great deal missing from Otto's summary. There was still much that he did not know about certain events from the war, and others were reluctant to discuss these details with him given that he did not have the proper clearance. Otto had an almost wistful look on his alien features as he addressed Alan again.

"When I saw your face on the communicator," he said, "I thought for a moment that I was looking at Knight once again. I did not believe that I would see him again after we parted ways, and I do not believe it a coincidence that you resemble him so much."

"Well, that's a long story, Shipmaster," Alan said, "and not one I like to repeat, if you'll pardon me."

"Very well," the Shipmaster said. "If that is what you wish. However, you will answer my next question."

"Go ahead, Shipmaster," Alan said, sounding slightly wary.

"Why do you need Cujo's help?" Otto asked. "You were about to say that you needed his help for something."

Alan paused for a moment, clearing his throat. He had tried to rehearse his statement carefully, but now speaking to a Sangheili face-to-face seemed to have driven it from his mind.

"I..." he said. "I need him to help me find Kiryuu's body. From what I could tell, he thought pretty highly of your people. If anyone could have helped me to find him, Cujo could have." At this, Otto looked away, sighing. His expression was difficult to read, almost showing pity.

"So you have the same notion as Telek..." he said.

"Forgive my ignorance," Alan said, "but who's Telek? Cujo mentioned him a few times too, but I didn't get round to asking who exactly he was."

"I imagine that he would talk about him often," Otto said. "Telek 'Heros is the Supreme Commander of the Fleet Shadow of Fury, in which this ship lies under his command. Cujo served under Telek prior to their defection to the side of the humans during the war, and then went with him when he went to the UNSC." He paused for a moment, his eyes closed, as if he was speaking of a particularly fond subject for him. "Telek was my second-in-command when I was the Supreme Commander of the Fleet Particular Justice. I was Telek's mentor and teacher."

"Actually," Alan said, "I seem to remember Cujo telling me something about a martial art that only a few among your people know, called Para'rothu, which Telek taught him. It's pretty deadly as well, from what I saw of it in action. The only other person I've seen move that fast was Kiryuu. I suppose that means that you were the one who originally taught it to Telek."

Otto chuckled slightly at this. It seemed that Telek's rebellious behaviour did not seem to surprise him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; he seemed to be almost entertained by it.

"Anyway," Alan quickly said, "I guess Cujo and Telek were pretty close-knit. Do you know where either of them is? I wouldn't mind speaking with Telek about this, if I get the chance. It sounds like he had the same idea I did."

"He certainly did," Otto said, sounding more serious. "He acted on this impulse as soon as we left Earth. He commandeered five of our ships from the Fleet Shadow of Fury for this venture, ships which had already served in his rag-tag band of pirates, plus a super carrier which the Council had given him as his own ship had been destroyed. Cujo was also a part of the fleet, and gave his ship to the cause, as did Mitsu and Tulsa. Wago also tagged along with his assault carrier. There was also a human, Tom Jimenez, the Shipmaster of a cruiser which Telek gave to the UNSC as a gesture of goodwill. Their fleet must be on the other side of the galaxy by now, and we do not know what their destination was." He turned his back to Alan and walked back towards the other end of the podium, heaving a deep sigh.

"I do not doubt that Telek's intentions are noble," he said. "If there is something of Knight left to find, then it should be that he is delivered from the arms of oblivion. He and the Master Chief would receive the warrior's salute for fighting valiantly in battle. Unfortunately abandoning his fleet will give the Council grounds to court-marshal Telek and all those who travel with him. They would be stripped of their ranks and their ships. There is even a strong chance that Telek will never see his home-world again." He turned to look back at Alan, now with an expression of the deepest concern.

"If I could work my will," he continued, "Telek would also receive the highest honours. However, we have not been able to communicate with him since he departed from Earth. Either he is far beyond our range, or something has happened to him and his fleet. Of course, if I know him well enough, it is likely that he destroyed the tracking devices we put on our ships to keep tabs on them, as he did when he first defected. As each day passes, I grow increasingly concerned for his welfare."

"Have you tried looking for him?" Alan asked.

"The war is not over for us, Alan Tyler," Otto rumbled. "The Covenant Loyalists still survive, especially the Jirahalnae. They are fragmented, but should they ever unite they will prove to be extremely dangerous. I must place the safety of my people above all other priorities; I am sure Telek would want no less."

It was then that Alan had a sudden idea that raised his chances of his plan becoming successful. It would mean that he had another promise to keep, but if he played his cards right, his chances of finding Kiryuu would increase a hundred-fold.

"Then I can go look for him, Shipmaster," Alan said. "If Telek's also looking for Kiryuu, then there's a fair chance that I'll come across him. I'd be happy to keep an eye out for him... in return for a little favour."

Otto looked at Alan as if he had suddenly started sprouting feathers. He could hardly dare to believe that this creature felt ready to talk about deals, even though they had only known each other for a few minutes. When he thought about it, this idea of asserting some form of control seemed like the sort of thing Kiryuu would do as well.

"As you already know," Alan continued quickly while he had Otto's attention, "my ship is hardly up to the task of finding a speck of dust, let alone Telek's ship. If I'm to have any hope of catching up to Telek and Kiryuu, I need to be able to go much faster than I am at the moment. I'm not going to find anyone if it takes me God-knows-how-many years to get from one side of the galaxy to the other."

"In short," Otto interrupted, catching on to what Alan was hinting at, "you wish for a slip-space drive."

"Precisely, Shipmaster," Alan said. "From what I understand your drives let your ships get anywhere almost instantly. A trip from one side of the galaxy to the other ends up taking just weeks rather than years. I desperately need such a thing if I'm going to find Telek or Kiryuu. The _Serenity_'s an adaptable ship; I'm sure she can handle it."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Alan wondered if he had overstepped his mark on this matter, and he was half-afraid that the Arbiter would strike him down for some form of impertinence. Otto, meanwhile, was regarding Alan carefully. On the one hand, it seemed to go against every law he could think of to outfit an outsider's ship – an outsider that he had only just met, no less - with Sangheili technology, especially something as powerful as a slip-space drive. On the other hand, if this man really believed that he could find Telek, that was certainly a good thing; he was worried about the rebellious pirate, and feared that even he had got in over his head.

"Your ship is certainly a small one," Otto mused. "I could 'lose' some of the spare parts which we carry, and I am sure our engineers can create a suitable slip-space drive for your ship's purposes. It will be some time before those parts are missed."

"That's good to know," Alan said. "In return, I'll do everything in my power to find Telek and give him whatever help he needs to find Kiryuu. If he's really serious about finding Kiryuu, he'll need my help, and I'm prepared to give it to him."

Otto once again quietly regarded Alan. He wondered what it was that made this being so sure that he was the one who could find Kiryuu, ahead of all of those who had fought alongside him during the war. However, he still felt that the physical similarities to Alan and the late Kiryuu Knight could not be a coincidence, and he wondered if the connections between the two were deeper than he had thought.

"Will you give me your word on that?" he finally said to Alan. "Remember that your word is binding, and should we learn that you have broken it, then there will be nowhere in this galaxy which you can hide."

_That's all I need,_ Alan thought. _If I mess this up, I'll have two civilisations hot on my heels. Still, I've read Kiryuu's notes; he always just said to make sure that things don't get that bad._

"You have my word, Shipmaster," Alan said, sincerely, holding his hand out. He was not sure how the Sangheili made gestures of trust, but it seemed that Otto had some understanding of human customs, for he shook Alan's claw.

_Christ, Alan,_ he thought to himself. _What are you getting yourself into?_


	5. Launch of the MkII

**Launch of the MkII**

The repairs to the _Serenity_ took little under four Earth days. The crew kept themselves entertained in various ways during the wait, though this proved to be difficult as they were not allowed to explore much further beyond the hangar. The Sangheili technicians worked almost non-stop; they did not seem to fatigue as easily as humans did from a hard day's work. Rachel, of course, persisted in overseeing the repairs, and was rather dismayed at some of the modifications that had to be made in order to incorporate the new slip-space technology.

"She doesn't like this makeover!" she complained loudly. "You're really going to lose her spirit by doing this!"

"Oh yes," Alistair said, smarmily. "Let's just forget any need for getting to places well within our natural lifespans, as long as we conserve the ship's antique charm. That'll go down well, won't it?"

"It's just such a shame!" Rachel retorted. "This is a genuine Firefly! She's probably the last of a dying breed! We can't just let her fade away so easily!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Alistair said, "I really am. We do have a job to do though, and we need the upgrades. I'm sure she'll still be the _Serenity_ at her heart."

"You don't get it, do you, puto?" José spat, in an unexpectedly fierce tone. "We've got traditions to keep! You really want to give that up to the split-heads? We might as well sign up with the Covenant right now!"

"Watch your tongue, José," Alistair said fiercely. José had been spending a lot of time trying to pick a fight with any Sangheili who came into the hangar, and Alistair was afraid that he was going to cause an incident at any moment. "Don't make me cut it out of your head."

"Pfeh," José snorted. "The split-heads can speak just fine without 'em. I'd just love to see you try, big-beak."

"That's the best you can come up with?" Alistair asked. "I guess Malcho doesn't value wit very highly."

José just snarled, apparently unable to come up with a suitable retort. The Sangheili spoke to each other in their alien tongue, commenting on the rash behaviour of their guests, to put it in the most polite terms. Rachel just rolled her eyes at the boys' behaviour and moved to speak to the repaired Bishop.

"How are you doing, Bish?" she asked sweetly.

"I seem to be somewhat hard of hearing," Bishop replied calmly, fingering the bandage on his head. "I think there might be a fault with my audio receptors, on account of the attack."

"Don't you worry, Bishop," Rachel said kindly. "Give me a day or two and I'll have that proverbial earwax out of there."

"I don't get any build-up of earwax, ma'am," Bishop replied. "I know what you mean, however, and I appreciate your efforts."

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest artificial person in the Milky Way," Rachel said, in a vaguely flirtatious tone, teasing Bishop a little. Her amusement turned to annoyance as quickly as a changing traffic light, however, when she turned to see how the Sangheili were proceeding. She ran towards them, gesticulating angrily.

"Careful where those cables go!" she shouted. "They're just going to be more vulnerable on her hull, not to mention that looks horrible!"

Alan did not get to see much of the progress on the repairs, nor was he available to keep his crew in line most of the time. This was because Otto frequently requested his presence. The Arbiter had grown more curious about Alan's story, and often told Alan to re-tell his experiences. Alan did so, though reluctantly, as the memories of the people he had lost on his journey to this point were still painful. He reasoned, however, that if he shared these stories, then the Arbiter was more likely to offer some sort of clue as to Kiryuu's whereabouts. When Alan spoke of his encounters with the Destroyer creatures and the Invae, Otto seemed more concerned.

"So the Parasite has appeared in other forms throughout history..." he mused.

"Parasite?" Alan asked. "I remember Cujo mentioning that, and something called 'The Flood'. No-one would tell me anything else, though; apparently, you needed clearance to even speak about them."

"It would have been kinder to spare you from the knowledge," Otto said, gravely. "Suffice it to say that it sounds like you have encountered similar horrors before. If the gods favour us, then we will never see another horror such as the Flood in our lifetimes."

"I see," Alan said. "Moving on, surely you must have some idea of where Kiryuu is, Shipmaster? You said yourself you were one of the last people to see him alive."

"That is true," Otto said. "However, the region of space where we parted ways is also the former site of the Ark. It is not known on any Sangheili or human star-chart. I am not even convinced that it exists within our own galaxy. I now see your necessity for the slip-space drive, if you truly intend to find that accursed place. Such a journey would take decades, perhaps even centuries, with Earth's technology alone."

"Excuse me," Alan cut in, "but what's this 'Ark' you mentioned?"

"That too would have been 'classified information', according to your UNSC," Otto replied. "Suffice it to say that neither it, nor the Flood, will pose any danger to this galaxy again, if the gods smile upon us."

Alan was starting to get rather fed up of what he could and could not hear. He hated it when people he was supposed to be working with kept secrets from him, especially when they concerned an urgent matter at hand. Kiryuu had been notorious for it; he had always hidden one secret or another from everyone he worked with, Alan in-particular, which went some way to explaining Alan's dislike of him. Still, he did not dare to raise an open objection in case Otto saw it as slander and changed his mind about helping him.

When they weren't discussing their respective histories, Otto insisted on sparring sessions with Alan, in an effort to see if Alan was truly up to the task of finding either Kiryuu or Telek. He wanted to be sure that he was leaving this mission in the hands of someone capable of facing the seemingly-impossible task that lay before him.

So it was that the Sangheili and the mutant would duel, Otto wielding his prized energy sword while Alan lashed with his Technomantic whip. The upgrades to the weapons worked like a charm, though Alan found that he had to adjust his combat style to avoid slicing himself into ribbons. However, while Alan was doubtless highly skilled with the weapon, Otto had trained long and hard with his energy sword and the martial art known as Para'rothu, rendering him capable of moving at blinding speeds on a battlefield.

Otto offered some pointers in battle, though he was careful never to let slip any knowledge of Sangheili combat techniques. That knowledge was forbidden to any non-Aristocrat, and he was not as willing as Telek was to break tradition. In the end, Alan lost every one of his duels with the Arbiter, though on each occasion he did come closer to being victorious. On one occasion when he deflected Alan's strike with the whip and dashed in with blinding speed, raising the point of his sword dangerously close to Alan's neck, Alan could not help but raise an objection.

"No fair, using Elite tricks," he grumbled.

"You were expecting to have it easy, Shipmaster?" Otto retorted. "Your opponents will be using every technique and skill that they know to destroy you, no matter how ethical you might consider it to be. When in battle, you must be ready for whatever may come your way."

"I know, I know," Alan replied, indignant. "This isn't what I'm used to as 'training', though."

"Why not spend a few days on Sangheilios, training with the Spec Ops warriors?" Otto asked, in a rather snide tone. "Perhaps then you will understand why the Covenant had the upper hand in the war for so long."

Alan did not raise any objections to Otto's methods afterwards. By the time the _Serenity_ was repaired, Alan had become much more capable of deflecting Otto's strikes, yet he still could not defeat him. Otto could see that there was potential in Alan, but he felt that the mutant still had a long way to go before he could meet Kiryuu's standards, or even the standards of the best Sangheili warriors.

After the _Serenity_ was repaired, Alan was eager to leave as quickly as possible. All things considered, his time spent on the _Shadow of Intent_ had not been an entirely pleasant one, what with the vicious sparring sessions and the reports from Alistair of some form of misbehaviour or another on José's part. Apparently the former ODST had been picking fights with the Sangheili engineers and the warriors assigned to watch over them, and Alan saw that he was now sporting some very large bruises. Alan, of course, wasted no breath in chastising José for his behaviour.

"Do you want us to get thrown out of an airlock?" he said incredulously. "Trust me when I say that you really don't want to piss these guys off!"

"I just don't like 'em, boss," José snarled. "Not after what I saw them do in the war! You're crazy to trust 'em! I don't know what Lofwyr saw in you, letting you lead a team like this. He's even more crazy than Malcho said."

"I'm not here to impress you, Lofwyr or Malcho, José," Alan said sternly. "Now I need to know that I can trust you at my back, and right now you're not convincing me. If you keep up like this, I'll have you locked in your cabin for the remainder of the mission! Is that clear?"

"Yes... Captain," José muttered, in an unconvincing tone. He marched up the metal ramp back into the _Serenity_'s cargo hold. The ship's engines had been repaired, and had been extensively modified to incorporate the new slip-space technology. They now looked like they had been pulled off a Phantom-class ship, while the bulbous engine on the back of the ship now glowed with a vivid blue light as opposed to the yellow glow from before. The hull plating had been reinforced slightly, and it seemed that Rachel had insisted on some new paint-work, in order for the new jets to not look so out-of-place on the ship. Two rotating plasma cannon turrets had also been added to the ship; one on the front below the 'beak', the other being on the roof above the dining room, with the controls being on the section of the bridge below the flight controls. The ship now looked like an odd hodgepodge of both human and Sangheili design sensibilities. Looking at it, Alan couldn't help but feel if Rachel had a point about the ship losing some of its charm, though he didn't mind such a cobbled-together look as much.

"You think she minds this slight makeover, Rachel?" Alan asked his engineer, humouring her.

"It's still _Serenity_'s heart that beating," Rachel said. "As long as I know that's pumping, I don't think she'll protest too much."

"It would seem that you are very attached to this ship, Shipmaster Tyler," a deep voice suddenly said from behind them. Alan and Rachel turned to see Otto 'Gamam stood behind them, looking over the results of the work his engineers had done.

"Rachel," Alan said, "head inside and prepare the ship for take-off. I take it you were taught how to get the Elite systems up and running?"

"Sure did, Captain," Rachel said. "It's not that difficult, actually. They gave Bishop a tutorial on the slip-space drive too; it's more or less just point-and-click. I'll see you on board." With that, she walked up the ramp into the _Serenity_ and disappeared from view, while Alan turned to address Otto.

"What was it you said, Shipmaster?" Alan asked.

"This ship..." Otto said, looking at it with a curious expression. "It clearly holds a large place in the heart of your engineer. I could not have offered one of our ships to you even if I had wanted to, but I have the feeling that you would have turned me down anyway."

"I've got to admit," Alan said, "after a rough first week, I've grown rather attached to the old girl."

"Let me give you one last piece of advice," Otto said. "If you look after your ship, she will certainly look after you. I hope your bond with the _Serenity_ becomes as strong as my bond with the _Shadow of Intent_."

Alan was not sure if he could buy into this apparent pseudo-mystical talk that both Otto and Rachel seemed to have in common, but he simply nodded to humour the Arbiter.

"Remember that you gave me your word, Shipmaster Tyler," Otto continued. "I do not know what your chances are of success in your mission, but believe me when I wish you good luck. May the gods favour you and Telek."

With that, he and Alan shook hands, before the captain of the _Serenity_ turned and stepped back on board his ship, the ramp to the cargo hold closing behind him. Now that he stepped back onto the ship and looked around the cargo bay, he could not help but feel that Rachel and Otto had a point; stepping onto it now felt like he had just come home. He breathed in and headed up to the flight deck, finding Alistair and Bishop waiting for him.

"Where's José gone?" Alan asked. He was sure that Rachel would be in the engine room by now, and he was slightly unnerved by José's apparent disappearance.

"He's in his cabin," Alistair said. "He's probably cleaning his guns by now, and judging from his expression I doubt we'll be seeing him until the next meal-time."

"We can leave any time, Captain," Bishop said from the pilot's chair. "I've received word from Rachel that the engines are back online. I must commend Lofwyr for creating such an adaptable vessel."

Alan couldn't help smirking slightly when he thought of the expression on Lofwyr's face when he realised just how extensively the _Serenity_ had been modified.

"_Serenity,"_ a Sangheili voice said over the ship's communicator. _"You are clear for take-off."_

"Roger that, _Shadow of Intent_," Alan replied. "Bishop, take us out."

"Roger," Bishop replied. With expert skill, he guided the _Serenity_ out of the assault carrier's hangar and back out into the blackness of space. The hustle and bustle of the hangar soon turned into a gaunt quiet once again as the Serenity flew away from the gigantic vessel, which even as it was leaving opened a slip-space portal and headed to parts unknown.

"Well, we've passed the first test," Alan said calmly. "We might as well test our new toy. I just hope we don't end up blowing up our engines or something."

"The Sangheili assured us that the technology on the vessel was remarkably compatible with their own," Bishop said. "Lofwyr must have designed the ship to be capable of accepting a wide variety of upgrades in case the ship cannot reach any human outpost."

"What's the nearest human outpost, anyway?" Alan asked. "We might as well see if we can't make a stop first."

"The nearest one," Bishop said, consulting a star-chart, "would have taken us several months to reach under our own power. Now that we have the slip-space drive, we can get there within a few hours."

"Let's make that our first stop then," Alan said, now feeling more confident. "Bring me that horizon."

"Poetry, Captain," Alistair said, smarmily. "Sheer poetry."

Bishop pressed several switches, the ship shook slightly, and as Alan watched a glowing slip-space portal appeared in the void in front of the ship. As Bishop steered the ship towards the portal, Alan could not help but feel excitement welling up within him once again. The mission now seemed to have become just another G-Chase to him. He did not know what would be waiting for him, his crew and his ship beyond the portals he created, but he felt he knew one thing for certain:

He would have a lot of fun finding out.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
